


Rub-A-Dub-Dub, A Reality In the Tub

by Camlann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Labyrinth Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camlann/pseuds/Camlann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would appear that sometimes, things cross universes. And when things cross universes, Darcy Lewis finds herself a little more preoccupied with whatever is going on in that universe than another. In some, she doesn't even realize there ARE other universes. And then there's this asshole... Who seems to show up in every one of them. </p>
<p>Ducky drabbles set in Alternate Universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As The World Falls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky as the Goblin King. And Darcy is far too tempting a woman to not try and make his. 
> 
> [Tumblr Prompt]

She’s had a strange day. And Darcy slowly sinks down, rubbing over the pear in her hands. It’s her favorite fruit, and she’s a bit worried about what will happen if she eats it. Everything in this… realm was strange. And she just wanted her old life back.

Sure, it hadn’t been ideal. She’d been working in a lab, not really using her degree, and was barely making minimum wage.

But when she’d wished for the Goblin King to take her away. She hadn’t expected it to work.

The world she was in now was strange and a bit mad. She’d met a few friends, sure, but they had gone. Or they’d been separated. Something like that. Either way, she was alone now and sitting down to rest her feet. So much **walking**. It was like this guy couldn’t do straight lines if he tried. Darcy grins at the fruit in her hand, thinking it funny, and then shakes her head.

Only a few more hours left to find her way home…

“Hoggle said,” she speaks softly to herself, feeling eyes upon her even now. Surely if he’s king, that man who’d walked into her bedroom as she’d cried with his face hidden by a mask, then he must see all in this kingdom of his. Surely. “That if I were foe, I’d eat it. But I’m his friend. So that means I shouldn’t eat it. Unless me means foe of the king. And then. Then.”

Was she that, though? He’d taken her away, kidnapped her just as well as all those news stories talk about, and now she was in someplace magical.

But it wasn’t real. And she had to remember that. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t her life, and she had work in the morning. A niece to pick out a birthday present for and a family that called her just to check in. What would her mother think? Oh God… Mom. Dad.

“I think I’m not so much foe as wanting to be someplace I’m safe. And I’m not safe here,” she says to the stones around her, placing the pear to her lips. “I’m much safer at home.”

A few bites and her visions blurs, making her close her eyes. A deep breath and she feels things… **shift** around her. The rock she’s chosen as her seat has become more comfortable. There is music instead of a dull buzzing in the air, and she hears laughter. People! But, when she opens her eyes, Darcy thinks they won’t be able to help her much.

It’s a party alright. But it’s a party in a Goblin King’s realm. So it’s revelry without end, and how many of these women were like her? Lost and ended up forever here, twirling and spinning and dressed to the nines. Speaking of, the young woman looks down at herself before she startles. She’s decked out like these others, and there’s a pale red dress on her form, gold spun through her hair. It fits exactly right and it’s more revealing than she’d wear on an adventure, but then. She’s not the one that chose it, was she? Which means he’s here, somewhere, the master of this place.

She had to find him. Plead with him. Send her back. Please. Darcy nods to herself before she stands and starts to look around for the black mask she remembers from her room.

Only, it’s not there and people are crowding her. Spinning her around gently, making her lose her way. She swears she sees a hint of black in all the gold and silver but she can’t be sure. It makes her huff and eventually, Darcy’s had enough of the cat and mouse. Screw this guy. Hands on her hips, she puffs up to her full height in the middle of a closing hoard, voice rising.

“I wish to speak to the Goblin King!”

The music doesn’t still, the people just barely pause, but it works. The spinning stops, for her at least, and suddenly there he is. And Darcy has the absurd thought that getting lost in his eyes would be more difficult to find her way out of then this forsaken maze and quests.

Reaching up as he steps closer, his hair slicked back and long coat flowing around him, Darcy gently removes the mask from the lower part of his face. It falls to the floor as she’s swept into a dance and she feels warm. Wanted. Cared for as he takes her breath away. Her thoughts start to blur as her vision had before, and they leak into the idea that maybe this isn’t so bad. He’s solid, very real under her fingers, and the closer he presses… the more she wonders.

“Why am I here?” she finally whispers, afraid to break the spell. She should be afraid that she’s afraid to break it. “Why am I being tested? Why must I stay?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

His voice is smooth and just as warm as his chest, leaving Darcy pressing closer. Her dress is full and thick, but she can still feel his strength through it. Her heart flutters and her mind curses, knowing she has to go. Knowing. But not wanting. Or not wanting a little bit.

Maybe this was his magic. Making people doubt what they wanted and then showing them what could happen if they took.

“You’ve read the story.”

“You don’t love me.”

“I could.”

Potential. Darcy can feel it and she feels him lean closer. The people around them press in towards them, and she panics. She doesn’t particularly like crowds and the fear shows up right when she least wants it to. Or more, right when the gaze of the king flickers down to her lips and she’s not had anyone in a long, long time. Since high school.

And they weren’t worth the time she’d spent on them, unfortunately. Swallowing thickly, she breaks away.

Runs.

Right into the mirror because it made sense that a mirror would lead her out. The reflection would work as a portal and yet, she’s disarmed and nothing like that happens. Darcy presses her fingers to it, afraid again, like when she was dropped at the start of the Labyrinth.

Fingers cover hers in black gloves and for all the colors, he’s very devoid of them, himself. Pressed against her back, she can’t help but realize they fit together.

“Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Shame.”

The mirror shatters and Darcy screams, falling through with her eyes closed. Only to sit up from where she’d chosen her resting spot before all that.

Needless to say, she chucks the pear against the wall, back in her sweats and pajama shirt. Darcy shakes gently, flexing her fingers before continuing on. No more Misses Nice Guy. She’s breathing hard and wants out, out, out. And with those thoughts in mind, she starts to jog, trying to find her way.

It’s another hour before she even makes it close to the castle and Darcy is panicked, her friends helping her along.

“This way!”

“No, this!”

“Oh, you don’t want to go that way.”

“Right. Into certain doom!”

“QUIET!”

Her voice hits a pitch that very few outside the toddler stage can reach and Darcy continues on her way, glaring at the statues around them and then breathing in front of the archway that seems pitch black beyond. If there’s anything she’s learned, nothing is what it seems.

“I have to go forward on my own.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to teach him a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“Yeah. This whooha.”

“The who ha?”

“The ha ha?”

“The whooha!”

Darcy just quiets them with a few gentle hugs and then steps through, hating already that there’s mirrors everywhere and no clear path. At least outside, there were multiple paths but they all were defined. Here, no such thing existed and there’s a flash in the corner of her eye as she realizes some aren’t mirrors, but doorways.

Shit.

Biting her lip, she starts forward, trailing her fingers across the glass. At least then she won’t run into one again.

“Forget about the door,” comes a whisper that’s too close. Darcy spins and he’s reflected as being behind her. This. This. Goblin King. “Come back to the party.”

“I can’t.”

“You say that an awful lot, doll.”

“I’m not your plaything.”

“No. But you could be so much better.”

He disappears. Reappears in another mirror. Darcy turns away from the man, goblin… **thing**. He’s beautiful. And dangerous. She wants nothing to do with him. No, not even now, does she want to stay.

Something in her chest twinges and Darcy tells it to shush.

It’s a mistake, but a good one. The King shows up in a mirror in front of her and, taking a surprised step back, sends her off balance and into a doorway. Right out onto a cliff where she can look over the maze she’s transversed, the different routes she could have gone. Darcy scrambles, quickly stands and brushes herself off.

“Freedom awaits,” she mumbles to herself, but looking around realizes that she doesn’t know which way actually is out. “Damn it. Damn him. Damn this whole place.”

“Such harsh words for a place that caters to you.”

Spinning, he’s changed again. His hair remains slicked back but his black jacket is gone. As are his gloves. Leather everywhere, Darcy feels her mouth water looking at him, even as she backs up slowly from his advance. In nothing but a vest and he has metal braces curling up, up, up his arms and over his biceps.

Darcy makes the mistake of reaching out, trailing a finger over the metal. He catches her, brings her close and holds a flat piece of metal between them, shined to reflection.

“Stay. I can give you your dreams.”

“Not all dreams are good,” Darcy whispers, letting her fingers walk over him softly. “Some are nightmares and I’m half inclined to think you’re one. I had a half priced hot dog before bed. I should know better.”

“I’m no dream. I ask for so little. Just fear me. Love me. Do as I ask, and I shall be your slave.”

“If I do as you ask, then I’m the slave.”

“Do not go…”

“Are you really so lonely?”

Her fingers have traveled seemingly of their own accord up to his face and James leans into them. For that is his name, Darcy knows that. She’s read the book. She understands he’s lost and now is looking for someone that reminds him of what once was. But she cannot be the past for him and he. He can’t be the future for her.

James’ eyes have fallen closed and Darcy gently brushes her thumbs over them, wishing he could see what she does. The power he holds… it’s something he could do so much with. And instead, he does this.

“Goodbye, bitter king.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I will.”

His fingers flick the metal disc between them around and he murmurs as his gaze descends upon her once more. Darcy, raises her chin, bats the disc out of his hands, and kisses his lips harder than she ought to.

“You have no power over me.”

It’s like the world falls out from under her. Free falling isn’t a good feeling and Darcy gasps, sitting up in bed and looking around as she pants. No. No… it couldn’t have been a dream. Could it? She slows her breathing with a hand on her chest before she slips from bed, padding into her bathroom to wash her face.

After a few splashes of water, she pats it dry and goes to look herself in the eye. To convince herself it was a dream.

He’s there. Watching her from the mirror but when she turns around, he’s not behind her.

“You are truly gone from my spells, then.”

“You could have asked, you know. Sometimes, people will go with you if you just ask.”

“That’s a foolish way to go about things.”

“You afraid of falling for a little girl with no concept of reality? Or afraid of finding yourself back in this realm where things make sense and you can’t control it?”

He glares but Darcy reaches forward, spreads her palm across the glass of the mirror. Hesitantly, the Goblin King does the same. It makes her smile and she takes a deep breath, closing her fingers around his, much to James’ surprise.

“Through dangers untold. And hardships unnumbered. I have fought my way here to the castle; beyond the goblin city, to take back the child that you have stolen. My will is as strong as yours.”

“You have no power over…. me….”

He’s there and Darcy throws her arms around him suddenly, pulling him down for a kiss. Because while she could not live in his dream world, she could pass him into hers and find a way to make it work. Opening up to him, feeling the grasp of greedy and strong fingers along her back, Darcy gives a satisfied hum.

“If you can go back and forth between this world and the next, then so can I,” she whispers, moving her lips against his. “And we’ll do so. Together.”

For power was a funny thing and Darcy figures that if this king has it, and she is wanted to be his queen, then something had to give. And if giving up some of her life to make him one here with her. Well. She could do that, couldn’t she? Especially for a lost prince who was going to steal her heart anyways. Strange but.

It seemed to fit.


	2. Show Me How You Burlesque

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burlesque AU. 
> 
> It’s not Moulin Rouge, but that’s what she likes about it. Unless Ewan McGregor wants to come in and sweep her off her feet. She’s totally into that.

Her nightly routine is this.

Shower and primp her hair until it’s soft curls down her back. Towel around her body, apply makeup to eyes and lips. With a pop of said lips, she slips into undies and garters before rolling fishnets up her leg. And then comes the hard part.

Darcy never did quite figure out how to do a corset by herself. It sparkles, encrusted with hot pink sequins against the black leather of her booty shorts, and she struggles with the back before she slips yoga pants over everything and snaps her heels onto her feet. Throwing on the t-shirt of an old boyfriend that’s like, three times her size, she’s out the door for work. The girls help her into the corset in the back, before she puts a pink rose in her hair and sashays out into the main bar area to pick up her tray and start the night.

She’s a waitress, she tells people, because burlesque seems to hold connotations that just aren’t always right. And she’s not technically lying, it’s just that her uniform is a little different than most. And it’s good money. Really good money, some nights. So the woman isn’t complaining and it allows her to get through her double history and political science degree pretty well.

It’s not Moulin Rouge, but that’s what she likes about it. Unless Ewan McGregor wants to come in and sweep her off her feet. She’s totally into that.

What she gets instead is a welcome home party for a few soldiers.

“Well hey there, sweet cheeks,” she says, sliding up to the table in heels that should be illegal. No really, she’s fairly sure that if she kicked hard enough out with them, she could do some major puncture damage. “What can I get for you boys? Haven’t seen you in before, first time around?”

There’s one that looks like he doesn’t want to be there. Blonde hair, blue eyes, killer charming smile that sits in a serious face and on a Hell of a body. He’s polite, asks for drinks, rolls his eyes as the one with the handlebar mustache starts to hit on her. Darcy flirts right back but only just, winking at him before she realizes she’s missed one of the men at the table.

Dark. He’s… in the shadows and glancing around like he’s looking for someone to come out of them. But when she catches his eye, she has all of his attention and Mr. Brooding comes out a little into the offset golden light of the booth enough for her to see him.

Hot damn, she’s lucky this is her table. His voice alone makes her a bit weak in the knees and Darcy has an extra swing to her hips as she walks away.

“You making friends, Dee?”

“What makes you ask that, Jay?”

“You’ve got eyes on your six and they aren’t even looking in the right place.”

“Hm, what?”

“Mr. Tall, Dark, and Moody is watching your strut, not your ass.”

Johnny Storm. What a guy. What a friend. He could deliver the best burns in the place, all sass and a smile that could woo any lady. And had wooed quite a few, thinking on it. But he’s also a little bad with the chatting, but it just makes Darcy laugh hard enough to make her curls slide across her cheek to get stuck to her lipstick.

“Well done, Johnny. You sure know how to pick them.”

“Hey now, you know me. Always watching out for you.”

“Yeah, more like watching my ass. You got those drinks?”

“You serving old men?”

“Maybe they just have class.”

“Maybe they need a cosmo and some dirty dancing.”

“Hey, nobody puts Baby in a corner, dude.”

There’s a snort as Darcy reaches up to pat the other’s cheek, everyone towering over her in the place, even in her heels. She’s glad Johnny is flaming, he’s exactly the type of joker she would have dated back in the day when she was just having fun with it. Now though, she had work and life and school. Dating wasn’t really an option and she is glad her tray is small enough to balance on her hand.

“Whiskey sours and gin and tonics. And then you’ve got your vodka shot. You sir, are planning something.” She slides the small glass across the table to the one in the corner shadows, hard to do in a round booth so she’ll call herself impressed. “Now you boys just wait until things start and I’ll be around again.”

And she’s gone, though she can feel eyes on her. It’s not new but there’s a delicious shiver down her spine that says she’s found someone’s interest. And he doesn’t seem too bad, normally Johnny’s good at playing hero and keeping them all safe in house. And he hasn’t said anything about the man in the booth, so Darcy doesn’t worry at all. Instead, she flickers in and out near tables, laughing with patrons and charming the new. And when the lights go down, she’s quick to the side and watches because some if it never gets old.

There’s a pause in one of the numbers that allows her to pick up empty glasses, and she finds a signal for more drinks, though she has to lean over to hear they want simple things like beers now instead of fancy drinks. Her blue-green eyes flicker around the table and while most are watching the show, Mr. Boy Next Door is looking into his drink and then Mr. Brood and Gloom is… actually just turning back to it after probably getting an eyeful from her corset.

Not surprising he turns back, though. It’s Romanoff’s set. They don’t really get along, one quiet and the other loud, but Darcy slips away with a wink to the gentleman who looks like he wants out. It makes him grin just a tiny bit but eventually, he is able to slip out of the booth and Darcy finds him a place quiet enough to call a ride.

Poor boy. She talks to him for a bit in the foyer and finds out who they all are. Army buddies, as they’d said. But a special team that was reassigned years ago now. The one in the corner? James Barnes, apparently, and the one that just got back that they’re celebrating for. And the one with the mustache that keeps tipping her for dealing with him? Dugan. DumDum is a great name, she has to admit, and she laughs and waves when the man’s ride gets there. It was always nice to see couples, Darcy decides as the woman that is waiting in the car starts to laugh as Steve tries to explain why he’s there.

But it’s not her job to look after admissions. Oh no. That's Jessica's job, so Darcy slips back inside where darkness is her particular friend and starts her rounds again. The show isn’t over but it’s a break, and she chats up her tables and wins tips left and right. She also has to get into the back, as it’s her night to bring in the dancer’s drinks.

It goes off without a hitch... for a good portion of the night. It isn’t until the show is almost over and things are slowing down, her tables getting ready to leave, that she ends up face to face with someone who wants to get backstage.

And that’s not allowed. Oh no, no Sir.

“You can’t go back there.”

“Listen lady, I paid at the door.”

“This is a show. Not a free for all. You can’t go backstage at a theater, you can’t go backstage here.”

“Yeah right, like this is anything like a theater.”

There’s already footsteps on the metal grating above them that signals security, so Darcy places herself between this man and the door. Only to find a voice drift from nowhere and the footsteps coming down the stairway speeding up.

“Think the lady said to leave it.”

“Think you best mind your own self.”

She knew these men were soldiers, but to see this Barnes person straighten and glare sends her wanting to find a cubby hole to hide in. Seriously. Bad ass just got a new definition in her head. Because this man places himself between her and the other, who smells all too much like alcohol and cigarettes. Enough so that Darcy gives a little cough from the smoke and is then greeted with the sight of a strong back in a leather jacket in front of her.

Even Pym coming off the staircase with a growl to deal with the guy doesn’t move the soldier’s stance. It just changes slightly so he’s facing her, Darcy having to look up to look this man in the eye.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Good, even. Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“You shouldn’t be dealing with people like that.”

“Oh please,” she snorts. “I’ve dealt with worse people in college. But still, thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

And he pauses to look at her again before he’s gone from in front of her and Hank is coming around to ask her the same questions. Yes, yes, yes. She’s perfectly fine. Just… a little weak in the knees. Maybe a little breathless. Because that man is more than just bad ass. He’s kind of dreamy in a bad boy kind of way.

Darcy, however, knows that she really shouldn’t think anything more of it. He’ll never come back and if he is an actual ‘bad boy’ in reality… then she doesn’t want a life with the police bringing him home. Thank you very much, but no. That’s a Hell of a thing to explain to the neighbors. Especially if he comes and goes by police car. And maybe, just maybe, she was hanging around the wrong type of people in high school if those are her thoughts on the subject. Honestly, how absurd. She wasn’t ever going to see him again and Darcy smiles her way through her last hour of shift before she ends up pulling on her yoga pants once more and tiredly shuffling out the door.

Right into the dark street outside the place, late at night... with Mr. Barnes in it.

“Um…”

“He was hanging around.”

“Who what now?”

“That guy. He was hanging around. He left a few minutes ago because he thought whoever he wanted to see wasn’t coming out.”

“Uh… yeah… That doesn’t explain you, though.”

“He could have been angry at you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“What?”

“A strange man gets angry at you and hangs around after he’s booted out, and all you can say is oh?”

“What am I supposed to say? You’re my hero, here sweep me off my feet?”

And she doesn’t know when her hands went to her hips or when this James Barnes crossed his arms but Darcy gets the vague impression that this is like an old married couple arguing. Because he’s frowning dryly at her and she’s fuming quietly at him and they don’t even know each other for Heaven’s sake.

“Look. Thanks for hanging around. But I’ve got protection with me.” Darcy pats her bag and smiled tiredly, already moving towards her little put-put car. “But you’re just as suspicious as he is now. So why don’t you get a move on home, Mister. And I’ll do the same.”

“Hey, wait.”

“Oh, what now.”

“... Thanks for dealing with our table.”

“Yeah. Yeah no problem.”

And at least that gets a smile on her face, Darcy has to admit. But as she shoves her bag into the back of her car and then realizes that Barnes is walking home at 3 in the morning, the woman wants to pull her hair out.

Her mother always said that she should offer a helping hand where she could. Her father told her that rule number one was pay attention, and to not get herself into too much trouble. And then her brother had just handed her a taser and said don’t use it because people disagree with you. Which, granted, to a high school student, that was good advice when giving them a taser. Sometimes, Darcy wondered about her brother. But right now, she was wondering what to do.

“Hey!” she called out her window, stopping in the turn to get out of the parking lot and watching Mr. Mysterious turn his head. “Yeah, you. You need a ride somewhere?”

“You have no idea what self preservation is, do you?”

“No, not really. But if it’s shiny, you might be able to teach me.”

“You know where Brooklyn is?”

“Hell’s to the yeah. My friend lives out there. She’s got a real nice place and works nights too. So I can stop by there and get lab grown pie. Get in.”

And he does. Darcy has no idea what possessed her to do this but with the fishnets tight around her thighs and the feelings of the bands keeping them up pressing against her too, she is awake enough to know it’s not the tired talking. Suddenly having this strange man in her car reminds Darcy why her father always said to not do stupid things. And why her brother gave her the taser in her purse. That’s in the back of the car. Damn… she should get that and keep it up front, really. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“So…” she drawls, watching the light with her head slightly tilted forward over the wheel to see it. Her mind is in a loop, telling her not to look over and stare at pretty soldier boy. Do not do it. Do not, no matter how that small crinkle of delight up her back tells her that he’s not taking the same route of thoughts in watching. “You just got back, right? That’s what your friend said.”

“Yes.”

“Uh. What rank are you?”

“Sergeant.”

“That’s pretty good. How you like it? My brother was over there for a time.”

“It’s alright. I guess. What you’re brother do?”

“Green Beret. I wasn’t allowed to know. But he went over. Didn’t… exactly come home. But nieces are cute. If you open up the cubby in front of you, I’ve got a picture.”

“You’re willing to share a picture of family with a stranger?”

“What are cute pictures of nieces for, if not to show off?”

It continues, with him making little comments about how she probably shouldn’t be asking this or telling that to a stranger and the inevitable continuing of her asking the same types of questions. When she starts to pull into the apartment complex he lives in, Darcy is laughing pretty hard over soft music and pulls to a stop in front of the Sergeant’s stairs.

“Well, you’re not a stranger anymore,” she counters, leaning on the center console, her fist finding her cheek. “So there’s that. Can’t say that anymore, Mr. Barnes.”

“I’m still a stranger. You can’t expect to know everything about me from one car ride,” he offers before there seems to be hesitation in him as he leans over so he can see inside his open door, even though he’s standing outside the car. “I would ask you to come up but-”

“But I’d say no. Because that is totally how the naive little freshman gets murdered in all those serial killer movies. Totally not happening, dude.”

“Good. See, you did learn something. Didn’t even have to be shiny.”

“Why you little…”

His laughter is payment enough as the door shuts and Darcy sticks her tongue out at him, smiling as she drives away. He actually has her number tucked into his jacket pocket so he knows she got home okay. And wasn’t he just the dark one with a heart of gold?

She still texts him when she falls into Jane’s sofa, the woman who works nights at a lab having given her a key long ago if she ever needed it. Besides, she’s dating this dude from overseas and she’s like, constantly at work instead of in her apartment so it’s not like Darcy is intruding. It’s not like that at all as she wraps a blanket from the back of the sofa around her and makes a grocery list. She yawns as she thinks of what Jane will need in her pantry and fridge for when she gets back from another trip that she’s on and marked out on her calendar.

And that is that. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

\------

What doesn’t click in Darcy’s brain is that James Barnes knows where she works. That James Barnes could, technically, make it a habit of dropping by. Or she doesn’t until he starts to. It is a bar, but it requires cash at the door. And she doesn’t work Mondays or Wednesdays, because who wants to work those days? Besides, that gives her time for classes and even more time for tips on the weekends.

All great. And if she happens to make a regular out of the man that keeps sitting in the corner of the bar where she has to pick up her drinks, it’s all very tactical and she doesn’t realize because he isn’t with his friends so of course he needs a stool by the bar.

It also becomes a regular thing that she’s sleeping on Jane’s sofa after driving the man home. It’s not like he should drive after drinking and she rationalizes it that way, if only because he has the prettiest eyes and voice and treats her like a lady.

Which is why when he stays in her car after a particularly long shift of demanding customers, she doesn’t even register he hasn’t opened the door yet.

“You know, these apartments are nicer than mine,” Darcy comments as she leans back in her seat, closing her eyes slightly and breathing deep. “Then again, they might be shit inside. At least mine is fairly nice.”

“Where do you live?”

“In a shoebox.”

“No really.”

“I’m being sincere, dude. Jane’s place is bigger than mine, and you’ve seen hers when we drive past.”

“I should get you out of there.”

“And put me where, exactly?” Darcy laughs softly, letting her head roll to look at the man in her car. And he’s closer than he normally is, leaning just slightly towards the center console as he looks at her. So she leans on the console, herself, and tilts her head enough to rest her chin almost on her shoulder. “What? You know, you sure do stare a lot.”

There’s an awfully quiet pause and it makes Darcy’s smile dim a little. Did she… had she done something wrong? Was she not supposed to address the way his gaze flickered over her from time to time, not anything like others would but still looking? Because she totally wasn’t into that. She wasn’t the quiet sort.

She also isn’t the sort to know what to do when he reaches for her. So instead, Darcy stays stock still and searching James’ face to see if she’s missed something when his thumb sweeps her cheek, fingers brushing by her ear as he pushes some of her hair behind it.

And then gently rubs his thumb along the corner of her eye, frowning at the dark smudge that comes away at his motion.

“I know reasonably why you wear so much but… you shouldn’t.”

“I don’t, normally.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Excuse me!?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen you in the daylight. Or really any light. Streetlamps don’t count.”

“I. I guess you haven’t.”

“Listen, would you like to come up? You’re exhausted, you’re falling asleep right now. And don’t try to hide from me, I can see the droop in your eyes from here. So, will you come up?”

“... Sure thing.”

Darcy finds she actually doesn’t mind going upstairs with him, though she does take a moment to grab onto his jacket as she bobs around and kicks her heels to the door before stepping forward to pick them up.

“Not walking up the stairs in heels. Nope. Nada. Nay, nay I say. For I will fall and die.”

“Or I could just carry you.”

“Har, har. My hero. Naw, I’ve got it. Just don’t need these things.”

He does stay behind her in the stairwell, hand on the small of her back and a step behind as she mosey’s on up to his place. And it really is nicer than her apartment, which is dark and faces a wall but is inexpensive. Cheap was good on the dime to dime budget she had going for her. And then Darcy tiptoes into his place, suddenly realizing that she’s still in her costume under her yoga pants, sequined top glaringly obvious, and if it was any other time of day what his neighbors would think of her.

It’s a cringe when the lights come on, also the realization that the whole reason he’s probably asked her up was because he’d never really seen her. Which is why when the hallway fills up with white light, Darcy doesn’t turn around.

Not until he brushes past her with a hand on the small of her back again.

“You want coffee cake? Or actual coffee?”

“Dude, if you have milk that I can warm up, I’ll love you forever.”

“... That I actually have. Mug or bigger mug?”

“Biggest?”

“You’ve… got. It.”

Oh. He’s finally turned around and caught sight of her, leaning in the doorway of his kitchen with her hair in loose curls and a floppy rose in the back, hot pink corset catching the light and yoga pants not hiding that she’s wearing something under them.

She almost wished she was still in her heels, because at least then she’d be slightly closer to his height. But only slightly.

“Problem?”

“Not one.”

“You’re doing that staring thing again.”

“I’m not allowed to look at beautiful ladies in admiration? Good to know.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s basically what you said.”

“I. Shut up,” she finally snorts, padding forward and knocking into his shoulder with hers before she jumped up on the limited counter space and swung her feet. The high ground, she had it, and it made her smile as he put on water for what she assumed would be coffee and placed a mug of milk in the microwave. “The only pretty ladies are the ones in your neighbors rooms.”

“Didn’t say they weren’t pretty. Said you were beautiful.”

And maybe the high ground wasn’t so great because James is suddenly there between her knees, hands on either side of her thighs and looking up at her. He’s always had the advantage, Darcy knew this. But she could pretend when he wasn’t close that he didn’t affect her. Pretend enough and it could come true, right?

“It’s just the work clothes.”

“Then go take the work clothes off and let me see you.”

“Um. No bueno, Sir. Naked girl time is not James Barnes’ time.”

“Not what I meant, I’d lend you a shirt… there’s naked girl time?”

“Um. Normally after a shower if I have the radio on?”

“You… dance around in a towel…”

“Hey. I saw that brain go where it went. You sir, are a pervert.”

“Only with the best of intentions.”

And they’re laughing quietly again, James running his hands up the sides of her thighs before he leans into her and hooks his hands behind her knees to pull her closer. And Darcy is not immune to handsome fellows, especially not this one, so she links her hands behind his neck and just enjoys the way his hands smooth over her thighs until the microwave beeps and she finds herself picked up.

In her defense, she wasn’t expecting it. So the squeak is totally justified. Totally. And it makes James smile, so she thinks she’s done good as she clings to his neck for a minute before her legs slowly unwind from his waist and he sets her down.

“Hands. On my ass.”

“I’m sorry I’m not sorry.”

“Ass.”

“And a firm one too.”

“Oh my God, just go make your coffee.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She goes and gets her milk, testing it and finding it scalding hot enough to make her blow on it gently before leaving it on the counter to cool. Shuffling back into the hallway to grab her bag, Darcy pops her head back into the kitchen, only to find James already moving to see what she was doing.

“Bathroom?”

“Down the hall, through the bedroom.”

“Thanks. I won’t be a moment.”

And then she sways off, shuffling in her tired state instead of sashaying as she would at work. It’s not long before she’s right back out, coming to sit hesitantly next to James on his sofa where he’s moved both mugs to his coffee table, resting back in the cushions. She’s back in her old boyfriend’s t-shirt and has pulled off her stockings, stuffing both things into her purse, before cleaning off some of the makeup. And while more comfortable, it’s led to a dilemma. He’s… touched her. Favorably. And she hadn’t minded on her part. But for the first time, Darcy thinks that he must have a day job and being up this late isn’t healthy. His eyes are just a little tight around the corners as he looks her over, something pushing his lips up into a smile that’s almost soft as she shifts to look at him.

“Dude, how are you still coherent?”

“I’m coherent?”

“Oh come on, James. You’ve got to be exhausted. Why do you show up every other night?”

“Why does it matter?”

And she’s reaching for her mug when a strong arm snakes around her waist, pulling her back and for the first time, she feels how warm he is. Even in the kitchen, he’s only been so close. Now she’s been pulled into his side and basically onto his chest, her hair no longer pulled back by a rose clip and falling around her face as he buries his nose in it at the back of her neck.

“Why does it matter, Darcy?”

“I… I don’t know anymore.”

He hums and keeps her close, shifting only when she once more reaches for her mug. There’s a tenseness in his arm before she rubs it and whispers she’s not going, she’s just grabbing her drink. And then she even goes so far as to kick up her legs and set them over his lap, basically curling up on the soldier and laying her head on his shoulder as he grips her tight.

Her brother had come back from war… different. Not bad. Not good. Just different. And then didn’t come back at all. And Darcy wonders if she can handle this man who has a grip on her and has never seen her in the sunlight.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long has it been me over sleep?”

“Does it matter?”

“This one does, yes.”

“Awhile.”

“Why?”

“I can’t sleep. And you didn’t mind.”

“Do you work during the day?”

“Yes.”

“... Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“I thought I already asked that. You already said yes.”

And James’ fingers tighten around her thigh and hip, pulling her closer and Darcy’s eyes widen as she shifts just enough to almost spill her milk all over him. She doesn’t, but it’s a close call and she gently reaches over to set her cup down before it happens again.

“No take backs,” she whispers, carding through his hair and curling right up with him. “Promise.”

“... you smell like cologne.”

“What?”

“You smell like cologne.”

“Um. Okay?”

“Why do you smell like cologne?”

“Oh! Uh. This is. An, um, old boyfriend’s shirt. He kind of left it at my place and I made it my own for work. Cause, like, it’s way bigger and can fit things under it.”

Something dark passes over James’ face and Darcy swallows. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous, she can wear whatever she damn well pleases. And with that thought in mind, she pushes herself over into annoyed in defense.

“It’s not like I’m still with him or anything.”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“You got angry.”

“I’m not angry. You’d know if I was angry, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re younger than me.”

“Who cares about that!?”

“We’re not arguing about this.”

“I am. I am arguing about this. Does it matter that it’s an old boyfriend’s t-shirt? Hmm? I’m not dating you.”

“Well maybe you should be!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Both stop and blink, Darcy frowning hard at this infuriating man and she’s fairly sure that’s the reason James is frowning at her, too. But his hand is smoothing up and down her thigh again and Darcy wonders if it’s going to be a habit. A good one, granted, but a habit to calm himself down maybe. Or just have something constant. She doesn’t know, she’s not really good at this whole dating thing, and isn’t that what they just agreed to in the yellow light of his living room?

“We’re both tired.”

“Yes.”

“So we should both go to bed.”

“Right.”

Darcy stands with a firm nod, following through with her idea and liking the way James’ hands lingered on her legs as she moves away. She’d leave the cups for tomorrow, they could wait. This could not, with her edgy and fading fast into sleep or pouting. James, however, stay his place and Darcy sighs, hands on her hips.

“Well, are you coming?”

“Where?”

“To bed, silly.”

“With… you…”

“Yes. I think we’d already established that. Don’t play the gentleman. It works too well for you and I get all weak kneed. We both want company and sleep. So, off to bed we go. Come on mister.”

And she reaches out a hand towards him, wiggling her fingers playfully as she yawns into her fist. There’s a pause, one that Darcy finds extremely awkward, as she waits for the man to make up his mind. She’s about to drop her offer when a hand slides into her own. Not just into her own but up her wrist and over her arm as he stands. He boxes her in and kisses her finally, fingers winding into her hair and exploring her taste. And Darcy gives a whimper, letting her hands fall to the soldier’s belt loops before she’s released and gasping for air.

“Oh Lord, we have to do that again.”

“When you’re not falling over from sleep deprivation.”

“Good idea.”

“Come on, lets get you into bed.”

“Lead on, hero boy.”

“You make me sound like a sandwich.”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but you might be 12 inches long.”

“You want to find out?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

That he slips her a t-shirt that’s his doesn’t go unnoticed, but neither does her changing into it openly in his room, her back to him before she flops into bed and nuzzles at his pillows. Legs stretch out, toes spreading, and Darcy finally groans and rolls over when James slips in beside her in his own pajama pants. She loses her yoga pants in favor of tangling with flannel clad legs and pressing against a warm, naked chest, kissing at the man’s neck as he wraps around her like he belongs.

And maybe he does, after all this time. He touches at will now, the palms sliding over her thighs of before turning into palms sliding all over under the covers. Darcy falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, his breath in her hair as she passes out.

It’s not until morning that she fully understands that this has happened. That James Barnes has taken her home and kept her close during the night. And that she needs to get him an alarm clock that doesn’t beep like that. Because dear God, why. Darcy groans and covers her head, whining openly as he grumbles in the distance after getting up. And then her warm chest is back and Darcy noses into that instead, content to have those arms back around her and feeling safe.

This is nothing like spending the night on Jane’s couch. For one, she’s in a bed. And for two, she’s got a hot guy pulling her close to kiss her in the bars of light from the window.

“Well if you’re not a beauty, I don’t know who is,” he murmurs as he runs his hand down her back and under her thigh, tucking it over his hip before he’s rolling her over onto her back. Darcy’s hair splays out just slightly and she gives a muffled curse directed wholly at the man above her who is nipping down her neck. Oh. So this is James Barnes with energy was it? Screw him for being a morning person.

The laugh tells her that she’s said that outloud and he’s right by her ear soon enough.

“You could screw me,” he offers before he kisses the shell of her ear and ends up sprawled over her chest. “But I’d rather you just lay there all day so I can look at you.”

And so she did, carding her fingers through his hair as she laughed, snuggling backwards into the pillows and wrapping her legs around his lower back as she drifted.

“You look good in the mornings,” she offered, sleep coating her voice as she yawned and stretched. “Very good.”

“So do you. Very, very good.”

“We staying like this?”

“Yeah. We’re staying just like this.”

\----------

He still comes by work every other night.

She still works night shift.

But they both go back to the same place, especially after James actually sees her studio apartment.

And they both don’t mind that she stops wearing the yoga pants home, especially on the nights that they don't have to get up the next morning.

It seemed that everything and nothing changed in the sunlight after all, and all for the best in the end. That she ends up with her boyfriend working the bar? Well that… that’s just happy coincidence.


	3. NYPD Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is a detective. James Barnes is a bounty hunter. And boy, do they NOT get along. 
> 
> Tumblr Prompt - Castle AU

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Believe it or not, sweets, you don’t have much a choice.”

Darcy puffs up a little, having earned her stripes in this department and not fond when someone from another district comes in and demands he be on her team. Steve and Logan glance from her to the bounty hunter, Steve swinging his chair around at his desk to keep clicking through reports of the missing man they were trying to track down.

There’s a shared glance between the other two junior detectives and Logan’s lips twitch. Darcy, unfortunately, sees it from the corner of her eye and scowls harder. She’s going to talk to Captain Romanoff about this.

“You sit here. And don’t touch anything. I’ll be right back. Rogers, Howlett. **Watch him.** ”

There’s a nod from Logan and Steve gives a tiny salute, as Darcy finally glancing over at the man who has stepped onto the chair Darcy has designated for him and sat along the back of it. The huff she produces has a growl behind it and she is quick to the head of the precinct.

Twenty minutes later and she’s storming back out, phone to her ear as she taps Logan’s shoulder. He spins and starts walking with her, Steve coming around the other side of the desk to be at his partner’s side.

“Hey!” James calls, catapulting off the chair and crowding into the elevator with them. “Is it about the case?”

“Man found dead in a supply closet at a local school. Rogers, Lo’, that’s you. Foster has our stiff in the morgue ready for me, so you guys need to see about the dead guy.”

“They’re both dead guys, darlin’.”

“We’ll handle it.”

Steve’s interjection comes with subtle raise of his brows and head tilt towards the man that’s followed them into the elevator. Something in Darcy’s jaw ticks and she straightens her jacket, smoothing the double breasted buttons out across her chest.

“I’ll handle it.”

“I’m guessing the it is me.”

The detective turns on her heeled boots, standing her ground despite being about a head shorter than this new man before her. He wasn’t part of her team, he hadn’t worked to get here. And she sure as Hell wasn’t about to allow him to stick that nose of his into her case.

“Listen. I understand you’ve got some sort of… agreement with the Mayor. But you see, I’m not the Mayor. And you can be updated and kept in the loop, but when we step out of this elevator, you’re not my team. And I’m not sure you don’t break privacy policy on learning about our vic. So. Good day.”

“Listen, lady-”

“I said good day!”

Steve snorts into his hand and then departs with Logan when the ding for the ground floor goes. And Darcy catches the wink from Howlett, rolling her eyes at him.

But the problem remains that this bounty hunter is at her back and when the basement level finally opens up to her, he follows. She’s going to have to shoot him, isn’t she? Because that could be a fun day. It really could. And she grins to herself, the weight on her hip familiar and ready to be used.

“You can’t shut me out of this. You find that guy, he’s mine.”

“And if he’s dead, he’s mine. And if he’s not, he’s mine first. So really, I don’t see why you’re here.”

“The view?”

“Okay, listen here-”

“I hope I’m not interrupting…”

Darcy glances up and realizes that she’s walked the line to Jane’s lab just as she always does. There was no pausing to argue with Mr. Barnes, just a straight and true step into the morgue. Damn… she was hoping to leave him out in the hallway.

“Jane. What have you got for me?”

“For us.”

“Ignore the growth that seems to have sprouted from my side.”

“I’d be so lucky to sprout from those curves.”

“Is there any sort of ethical issue with pricking a pig and keeping him in your freezer for a few hours, Doctor?”

“You wound me.”

“Not enough, apparently. You’re still **talking**. Jane. Please tell me you’ve got something on this guy. All I’ve got is his name and a spotless record. He was the golden child, I swear to God. No Hotel California problems in sight.”

“… Hotel California?”

“You get used to it,” Jane offers the bewildered bounty hunter and Darcy glares at her too. Et tu? But she focuses when she hands over a little baggie, in which there was a little baggie. “This was found in his stomach. I’d say he swallowed it maybe… thirty minutes before he died? Something punctured it on the way down. Tests say it’s cocaine.”

“Any sign of forcing him to swallow? Past drug use?”

“Neither. His blood stream was clean of it, mostly. What was there wasn’t high enough levels to consider it to be from anything other than that gram or so.”

“Jesus. Gram? No wonder he’s here…”

“You know a thing or two about drugs?” Darcy asks, turning to James and raising an eyebrow. He scowls, but since that seems to be his perpetual state anyways, she doesn’t really worry about it. “Guess another guy is the muscle, then.”

“Bit rude to be a cop, aren’t you?”

“Was too short to be a stormtrooper, so I had to go with the rogue class, thanks. But Solo sends his regards.”

There’s a blink and Darcy feels a small victory cry in her chest as she thanks Jane and brushes by the man that’s been given over to her care. He’s by her side again soon after, growling about rules and listening to her superiors and they argue all the way to the crime scene, where he points out a few clues that they had all overlooked.

Begrudgingly, Darcy grumbles as they split up and she goes with James to follow a lead.

It isn’t until there’s a shootout a week later, when they’ve tracked this guy halfway across town and back towards the docks, that Darcy begins to wonder if having around is so bad. James is covering her bodily as he’s tackled her behind a countertop at a local pizza place and though she’s gotten her gun ready, he’s the one that’s seen it coming. And Darcy hates to admit she appreciates it, because it’s not everyday that she’s shot at but it’s still too regular an occurrence that she likes to avoid it when possible. .

Especially after he takes out the shooter with a pistol he’s had on him. Without her knowledge. All this time.

Bastard.

“Nice shot,” she murmurs, catching her breath before she’s hauled up by Logan. Ah, the cavalry has arrived. “You two alright?”

“As much as to be expected. Guy flipped Steve over before he tried to get a shot off at me.”

“I accidentally knocked over a stack of pans,” Steve says from the back, a clatter following him as he apparently tries to stand up. “And dishes…”

“… We’ll clean that up later.”

“ **He’ll** clean that up later.”

“Hey. I’m your partner.”

“Whatever, bub.”

As they squabble, Darcy turns her head to observe the bounty hunter dusting himself off. And trying not to watch the three of them, but he’s doing poorly at it. Or her years of detective work has made her exceptionally good at seeing things people don’t want her to see.

Darcy takes a step. Then another. And finds herself in front of James to look up to him. Gaze hard but searching, her lips eventually quirk and she punches him in the shoulder gently.

“You’re not so bad, hunter. Not so bad.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“That guy, he’s the one you were looking for right?”

“He matches the profile, yeah.”

“Guess that means you’ll be hitting the road?”

There’s a long look and Darcy has bounced off of James for this entire week. It’s brushing aside debris and getting down to the basic of cases faster, more effectively. It’s longer nights at the precinct but more getting done, and she can’t help but feel the loss of him leaving.

Not that she’d admit it, but it seems James can somehow see it anyways when he’s looking her in the eye. Because his fingers twitch as if to come up and Darcy tilts her head, as if to lean into him.

And then he shakes his head, smiling as he leans back cockily against the counter.

“You need me,” he offers quietly, even though they both know Logan and Steve are listening. “Badly. So I think I’ll stick around for a bit longer. The NYPD needs consultants right? Well, I’m the best you’re gonna get with your attitude.”

Darcy bristles before she realizes that’s what he’s wanted, James’ smile growing bigger when she puffs up. Damn it.

Damn him.

“So. There’s a hockey game on tonight,” Steve slides into the conversation, coming up beside James and looking between the two of them. Logan is by her side silently and Darcy can feel him looming, already knows that he’s going to whoop this kid’s ass just for looking at her. And she grins slyly, figuring that a little sway in her step to get James into deeper trouble is totally worth. “Chinese at my place as per usual?”

“Wontons and dumplings for me. I need out of these heels and into a jersey. Sweet baby Jesus, yes.”

“I’m in. I’ll bring the beer.”

“You always bring the beer.”

“Then I guess I’ll bring it again.”

“Why not let James bring the beer and you bring something creative for a change,” Darcy offers, pushing all her boys out the door with a grin as James double blinks at suddenly being thrust into the group. Good. Let him be disoriented. “Or better yet, I’ll bring the beer it won’t taste like shit.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?”

“I can bring the beer… Pretty sure I know how to pick that out,” Darcy’s a bit proud that James has spoken up in the bickering and she smiles. Even as Logan growls at him. “What?”

There it was. Simulation complete and she almost cackles, stepping around the now arguing gentlemen to pass her arm through Steve’s as they walk. When Logan threatens to disengage James’ balls from his body for saying… something about his favorite drink, she laughs softly and decides this is okay.

Casting a glance over her shoulder at the scowling bounty hunter who is challenging the other to drink him under the table, she finds his eyes on her too.

She’ll never admit it, but her cheeks go a pale pink as she turns back around.

Yes. This was definitely okay.


	4. Circle, Circle, Square, Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things belong to the shadows, some to the light. Some to the rivers, and she... she belonged to the forest. 
> 
> [Tumblr prompt for werewolf!Bucky and fairy!Darcy]

There’s someone here that shouldn’t be.

Scratch that. There’s **something** here. And Bucky freezes as he eyes the canned vegetables in the grocery store, having been too long in his wolf form and having to come back at least a little bit.

He’d heard his pack leader was having a cub. He’d thought Steve deserved to not have a massive wolf wandering into his world if he really had settled down. But it still made him uncomfortable, like a suit that was too tight around the neck or a shirt that wouldn’t let his chest expand fully. It just wasn’t right and Bucky was shifting on his feet anyways, but the scent that trails by with the opening and closing of a freezer door from the other side and he’s on high alert.

It’s not right. Not for here. It’s too… Too much like **him**.

Other. It’s an other and he clenches his jaw.

Feet lighten and even in stolen combat boots, he’s silent on his feet. There’s something like dust on his tongue but it’s bitterly sweet and he moves after it, nose twitching even now.

There’s a swirl of a skirt around the corner at the other end and he swears he hears laughter.

It sends him back pedaling because if it’s an other then he needs to not be here, either. Because he knows better, what goes bump in the night. And spices on the tongue couldn’t mean anything good. So he just grabs a few fruits and slips out the employee doors.

They won’t be missed, surely. And Bucky thinks he’s home free as he starts to step through the parking lot. The cars aren’t as protective as trees but he’s not that far from the forest.

He should be alright. Or he thinks so until he gets just inside the treeline.

"That’s called stealing."

He almost shifts. But he’s promised himself and he needs to do this cold turkey or he won’t be able to at all. Whipping around, snarl still on his lips, the werewolf faces whoever has spoken. And comes face to face with the greenest eyes he’s ever seen, sparkling in a way that’s mischief and magic and a shudder rips through him as he tips backwards.

Too much magic for one body. And he can see the outline of wings in the shadows of the trees. A flicker and they’re gone, but the woman remains.

He shouldn’t be here.

"And you would know, wouldn’t you?"

"You know me, then."

"Everyone does. It just depends if they believe in you or not."

Her grin is too pointed, her steps too light as she comes forward slowly. And though he’s a wolf, he knows when he is the prey and no longer the predator. Being stalked isn’t as much fun as the other way around and Bucky stands taller, only stepping back when she gets far enough that she could possibly touch.

"Clap your hands," she all but purrs. "If you believe."

"Don’t have to do anything to believe."

"Spoil sport."

She’s gone from his view then but he can hear her, a rustle of wings like a bird but quieter. Almost like the shuffle of clothing but it had an echo of malice about it as he jumped back from warm breath by his ear.

"Naughty wolf. We don’t steal. We make new."

"Not what I’ve heard about the fey."

"And all that you hear is true, is it?"

"Could be. Rather not take my chances."

There’s a huff and he’s eyeing the woman that’s turned from boots and long skirt and thin jacket to bare arms and legs and a flowing dress that swishes like reeds by the rivers he’s crossed.

How many bridges was he going to have to burn to keep a fey from following him to his leader’s cub?

"You really shouldn’t steal from these folk, though," she continues, turning to wander between the trees and flicker in the shade. Bucky has a hard time keeping track of her and he bares his teeth just slightly when he realizes she’s getting closer again. "They don’t have much. They sell what they can and take the rest home for themselves."

That tone… he knows that tone of voice.

"You protect them."

"I do what I can."

"That’s a change."

"Depends. They give me my space. I don’t do what they know I can. It’s a fair trade, really, with space whittled down to nothing. Not that you’d know. How long have you been alone?"

"Who says I’m alone?"

"You ran from me. No one followed."

"I’m not alone."

"Then they’ll lead you back."

"… what do you mean?"

The woman smiles and throws out her arms, spinning to the middle of where they are. And Bucky hasn’t realized that with every step he took away from her, he’s been going into the thicker part of the forest.

Right into a circle of trees, a small place but still a perfect circle. He’s surprised that she’s been able to do that, to lead him where she wants him despite him knowing exactly what could occur. Her grin is still pointed, almost as if her teeth were sharpened to tear into him, but Bucky’s pretty sure that’s his imagination.

He hopes.

"You caught me."

There’s a giggle and she nods, stepping forward and there’s no more reason for him to step back. Arms get thrown around his neck and the fairy noses into his neck, humming at him and swaying closer with her hips rocking out a beat he wishes he could follow.

"Are you mine then, wolf?"

"There are people who will come looking for me."

"Your pack."

"My family."

"Stay."

"I can’t."

"Stay."

The word is just a breath against his skin and Bucky shivers, pear dropping from his fingers as his hands move. Palms slide against the fey’s hips and he whines. Still not far enough from his other form, Bucky’s throat moves in quiet noises that are more animal than man the more the fey moves against him.

"Name. What’s your name."

"You may call me Dee."

"But what’s your **name**?”

The movement stops and she steps back, glaring now as she shoves him backwards. He’s gasping in the grass, wanting now but knowing that if he can just get out of the ring… he’s got a shot at getting away from her.

"You won’t have any control over me."

"Then it won’t matter if you tell me your name or not."

"I’m all alone."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If I tell you. I can’t tell you. Oh Christ, I shouldn’t do this." She’s mumbling to herself and Bucky rolls to his stomach, pushes himself up. He’s not going to wait around and he moves slowly to the trees that seem further and further away the longer he stays. Feet bare (and how did he lose his shoes?), he’s moving slowly and he can’t believe he turns at her call.

"Wait!"

She’s wringing her hands, and he’s never seen a woman hold more magic in her palm and look that confused before. She’s weighing her options and then she’s in front of him, a flicker of sunlight that didn’t happen.

"Darcy. My name. Is Darcy."

"Bucky. Or James."

"Will you leave now that you have what you need to?"

"I… yes. I have to. They’re waiting."

"So am I."

"I can’t choose you over my pack."

"What if I pouted. I’m good at the human, puppy look thing."

"Darcy…"

He cups her cheeks and it’s a bad idea. A very bad idea as he leans in and presses his lips to hers. Those spices that weighed down his tongue before find their source and Bucky finds himself lowering to the ground, caught by this fey and giving himself over little by little. He should go. But she wants him to stay. Or she needs him to stay. He’s not sure how her powers work.

"Take me with you then."

"You can’t come."

"Why?"

"There’s a cub."

"I won’t steal her."

"… It’s a her?"

His face lights and he looks at the fairy before him that looks like she’s given away a secret. Lip between her teeth, this Darcy is beautiful, truly. And Bucky kisses her again, pressing her back into the grass.

"I’ll stay for awhile. But then I have to go see her."

"You’ll like her better than me," she says, turning away from his kisses, and frowning hard. "You’ll leave and never come back."

"Then we leave and I keep you from taking my family to here. A promise to have me if you leave them."

"A promise. With me? You are not a wise wolf, are you."

"Never claimed to be."

"What do you claim to be, then?"

"With you."

"Good. Very good."

If he wakes days later in grass that smells like apples outside of Steve’s cabin, being poked with the nose of his pack leader and concern in blue eyes at his naked state in the snow, well. He did promise to be hers and Darcy wasn’t as fickle as he thought she’d be.

Though she did scream his name exactly like he thought. So he thinks he won that one by a long shot.


End file.
